


Men are from Mars

by cosmogyrals



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, everything is better with dinosaurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyrals/pseuds/cosmogyrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mishap at a wedding festival, Ten and Donna find themselves married. The only thing that's left to do is take a honeymoon - but their honeymoon turns out to be just as unconventional as everything else in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men are from Mars

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 'churchontime' fic challenge on LJ waaaay back in 2008.

“Right!” The Doctor hit the button to dematerialise quite emphatically. “Definitely not going back there again. Rubbish holiday, that.”

“Well,” Donna pointed out helpfully, “perhaps _you_ ought to have been more familiar with the local customs.”

“Of all the planets in the universe, _I’m_ supposed to keep track of _one_ marriage festival on one lousy little backwater planet?” The Doctor looked taken aback for a moment; the idea clearly hadn’t occurred to him. “I think I’ve got bigger things to worry about, thanks.” He leaned over, fiddling with a lever for a moment, then suddenly straightened up and stripped his sodden tunic off, hurling it violently across the console room. “Where did they even _find_ a legally binding Gallifreyan wedding ceremony? Or Gallifreyan _anything_?” He started pacing back and forth irritably, hands behind his back; Donna wondered if being married to the Doctor gave her the right to pin him down and make him eat a bloody sandwich. “Weddings haven’t even been _performed_ on Gallifrey for millennia.”

“And do they consummate weddings on Gallifrey?” Donna asked, feeling that there was no sense in beating round the bush. Really, travelling with the Doctor had been hell on her sex life – even if she’d been able to pick up a one-night stand with the proper anatomy, there was certainly no way she was going to bring him back to her transdimensional wooden police box for a shag.

“What?” The Doctor halted dead in his tracks, staring at her blankly. He looked a little panicked, running his long, thin fingers through his damp hair. “No, I’ve told you, Time Lords reproduce asexually. No need for that sort of thing.” He looked down at his bare torso, seeming to notice his partial nudity (or possibly the slightly predatory gleam in Donna’s eye) for the first time, then back up at Donna. “I’m…just going to go get dressed now,” he added, his voice skipping up half an octave.

Donna was not going to be dissuaded quite so easily. “What about the honeymoon?” she called out, trailing after him.

“Honeymoon?” The Doctor turned his head to glance back at her over one pale, freckled shoulder. Donna folded her arms over her chest, just in case the Doctor had noticed that the rain had made her top more than a little transparent, though she doubted that Martians really paid attention to things like that.

“Yeah, you know, where the blissfully married couple jets off to some exotic location to…do what couples do?”

The Doctor turned around to face her, glaring sternly at her – though she could tell that he was still a bit panicked, proving, she thought, that even alien men were completely commitment-phobic at heart. “Look, Donna Noble, I don’t care what some spotty little aliens think, we are _not_ a couple, let alone a blissfully married one.”

Donna gave him a stubborn look right back. “Oi, Martian boy, don’t you pull that trick on me. I’ve got a bit of paper with little circle-y scribbles on it that _you_ claim is quite legal on Gallifrey and any other planet you choose to name, not to mention a bloody _ring_ , so don’t think you’re escaping quite that easily.” It was, she had to admit, a rather nice ring, with her name and the Doctor’s inscribed on it in Gallifreyan. Nicer than the set she and Lance had picked out, at any rate.

He stomped into his room, acting more like a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum than a nine-hundred-year-old alien who could manipulate time and space at will, and slammed the door behind him. “No!” he called through the thick wood of the door. “No honeymoon, no consummation, no bloody marriage!”

_Definitely_ a temper tantrum, Donna thought. She tried the doorknob, hoping that the TARDIS would humour her for once and see her side of things, but it didn’t budge. “Bloody ship,” she muttered under her breath. “Don’t you think he’d be much less tetchy if he got laid?” She wasn’t sure when she’d acquired the habit of talking to the TARDIS, but it was a good listener, at least, even if she’d never quite gotten over the feeling that it was some sort of voyeur – another reason to avoid having sex within its confines. It was bad enough that it got to watch her shower.

Though, she thought as she pounded on the door, waiting for the Doctor to give in, the TARDIS probably had the same sex drive as its owner, which was to say, none. At least it made sense for the TARDIS, though; sentient though it was, it was still a machine, whereas the Doctor, as far as she knew, was flesh and blood.

The door opened just a crack. “Would you _stop_ making such a racket?” the Doctor hissed through clenched teeth.

Donna looked him square in the eye. “No.”

“Now I know why Lance tried to feed you to the Empress of the Racnoss,” the Doctor mumbled, just barely audible.

That comment, in Donna’s opinion, had been _quite_ uncalled for, and she decided that she was through trying to play nice. She shoved her foot in the crack of the door, using her shoulder to force it open. For once, Donna was going to use the fact that she weighed more than the Doctor to her advantage. And if he happened to get in the way of the door, well, tough.

“Oi!” he protested as he was thrown aside. “This is my room, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

Donna closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to slam it shut. After all, someone had to be the mature one. Slowly, she advanced on the Doctor, making him scuttle backwards toward the bed. “We,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “are going to talk.”

“Talk,” the Doctor repeated as he sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing her warily. “Usually people who say they want to talk have more sinister motives in mind. Not,” he added hurriedly, “that you do or anything. It’s just something I’ve noticed from time to time.”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Donna barged ahead. “Someone says something like that, and you think ‘Oh, nine hundred years of experience proves that’s a bad thing,’ so you just disregard the suggestion completely and run away.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been travelling with me long enough to know that running away is usually the right solution.”

“But not always,” Donna pointed out. “Sometimes you’ve just got to face your problems head-on. Haven’t you ever learnt _that_?”

The Doctor gave her a funny look. “This isn’t just about a honeymoon, is it?”

Oh, God, did he think she wanted a _relationship_? All right, so maybe they had accidentally entered into a marriage that was legally binding in several different galaxies, but he _still_ was just a skinny little alien, hardly the sort of bloke she wanted to bring round to her mum for Sunday tea.

“Yes,” Donna said firmly, “It is just about a honeymoon. You are taking me on a holiday, and there _will_ be sand, sun, and loads of alcohol, and you _will_ have a good time.”

He rubbed one eye with a pair of fingers for a few moments, clearly close to capitulating. “Time Lords can’t get drunk,” he said finally. “Our metabolism makes it a biological impossibility. But all right. Just a couple of days on a resort planet, mind you. Nothing fancy, nothing…relationship-y. Just two mates having a good time. And I’m going to chuck that piece of rubbish into the fire at the luau.”

“As long as it doesn’t spoil the pig,” Donna retorted. 

***

“There,” the Doctor said, pushing the TARDIS doors open to reveal an expanse of deep green sand, glinting like emeralds in the sunlight. Donna could see a number of humanoid creatures – and a few not-so-humanoid creatures – basking on the beach.

She looked back at the Doctor and examined him for a moment, arching an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to change?” she asked.

“Hm?” He glanced up from the console, a distracted look on his face. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He fidgeted, rocking back and forth for a few moments. “You just…go on ahead, all right?”

Donna sighed and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes from their perch on her head. She’d not expected him to change, really, but it had been a nice thought. She slung her beach bag over one shoulder and resolutely set off toward the collection of small buildings that made up the resort.

Halfway there, she kicked off her mules, burying her toes in the sand. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it looked a bit like mold – gorgeous mold, but mold all the same. Before she could pick up her shoes, what appeared to be a miniature velociraptor darted in and picked it up in its needle-sharp teeth.

Donna winced as she saw the fangs puncture her shoes. “Oi!” she shouted. “Those shoes cost me fifty quid, I’ll have you know! Drop it!”

Somewhat surprisingly, the dinosaur _did_ drop her shoe, hanging its head in what looked like guilt.

“Forgive Ssthiss,” a sibilant voice said quietly. Donna turned around to see a larger velociraptor – this one at shoulder-height, rather than knee-high. “He’s teething, and this is his first big trip out of the nest. He’s a little over-excited.”

She flushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed – had she really just yelled at an innocent baby dinosaur? “Er, sorry,” she apologised. She started to offer her hand, then looked at the velociraptor’s foreclaws and thought better of it. Instead, Donna bent over and picked up her shoes, smiling at the baby dinosaur – Ssthiss, had she called him? “First time at the beach, eh, Ssthiss?”

Ssthiss jerked his head up to look at her, his slit-pupiled eyes wide, and ran behind the other dinosaur’s legs quickly, peering at her. Clearly, some reactions were the same from species to species.

“I’m Donna Noble,” she introduced herself to the larger dinosaur.

“Rrrys,” the dinosaur trilled, bobbing her head in greeting.

Donna smiled, a bit awkwardly. “Well, Rrrys, it was nice to meet you and Ssthiss, but I’ve got to get going and check in.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Hope to see you around sometime.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Donna,” Rrrys hissed. She nudged Ssthiss with one foreclaw, obviously prompting him.

“Byeeee,” Ssthiss chirped shyly, poking his snout out around Rrrys’s leg. He was, Donna thought, quite cute, once you got past the whole flesh-eating dinosaur bit. Or the fact that she wasn’t much of one for kids, regardless of species.

She started walking across the sand again, waving bye to Ssthiss one last time – though she wasn’t sure how well the body language translated into…dinosaurese, but he seemed enthusiastic enough about it. After dodging a few other herds of kids – including an actual herd of bipedal bovines – she finally made her way to the resort’s offices, located in the center of the cluster of small, hut-like buildings.

The woman at the front desk ignored Donna for a few moments, tapping some keys with her long fingernails. “Can I help you?” she asked, without looking up.

How was she meant to get them rooms, anyway? The Doctor hadn’t mentioned that – what if they were full up?

As she opened her mouth to speak, a familiar brown-clad arm thrust its way into her field of vision. “Reservations for Smith,” the Doctor said, flipping open the wallet he kept his psychic paper in.

The Doctor seemed rather closer to her than usual; his outstretched arm was brushing her shoulder, and he was practically pressed right up against her back. She imagined she could almost feel his double heartbeats against her bare skin through the fabric of his shirt.

Or maybe that was the vibrations from a thundering herd of children stampeding through the lobby. Somehow, that seemed far more likely to Donna.

The concierge reached out and offered them a pair of key cards, pinched in between two of her talon-like nails. Tucking the psychic paper into his jacket, the Doctor took the key cards, handing one to Donna. “You’re in the main compound, just out back,” the concierge chirped. “Lovely suite, opens right out onto its own private pool area.”

Donna felt the Doctor tense against her back. “Pardon?” he asked politely, pulling out the psychic paper and glancing down at it for just a moment. “I thought I reserved separate rooms.”

A few more keys clicked. “No, definitely a suite. I’m afraid we’re all booked up, sir. You know how it is – Smarch school holidays.”

“Right, Smarch. Of course. Come on, Donna.” The Doctor took her arm, tugging her away from the desk.

“What’s Smarch?” Donna hissed once they were out of earshot. She took a good look at his outfit. “And what the hell are you _wearing_?” The top half looked normal enough – suit jacket, shirt, and tie – but instead of matching pants, he had on a pair of swim trunks in a ludicrous banana pattern, and he’d even changed his ubiquitous trainers out for sandals.

The Doctor looked hurt. “Well, you asked me to change.”

“Yeah, but I meant something _normal_. Do you have any idea what normal is, Doctor? It doesn’t involve wearing a suit jacket to the _beach_.”

“Fine,” the Doctor huffed angrily as he peeled his jacket off, shoving it into Donna’s arms, and rolled his shirtsleeves up. Donna decided to refrain from pointing out that he still looked ridiculous – after all, it really was nice of him to try. And, truth be told, she found it all a little endearing, especially the horrible shorts. She found herself wondering for a moment what he thought of her sundress before realising that she really shouldn’t care.

She shifted the Doctor’s jacket into her other arm to slot the keycard into its lock, peering in as the door retracted into the wall. It was a nice room, large and airy, and decorated in a tropical theme that somehow managed to keep from being too tacky. A four-poster bed with sheer, gauzy curtains dominated one corner, while a small kitchenette and minibar was at the far end of the room, just by a door that Donna hoped led to the lavatory. Her heart sank a bit when she realised that the room was lacking in, well, other sleeping arrangements.

“Don’t worry about it,” the Doctor said lowly, coming up behind her – and how _did_ he manage to keep sneaking up on her like that? “I’ll sleep in the TARDIS.”

Donna tossed the jacket over the back of a chair. “Don’t be ridiculous, Doctor.” God, he _was_ being ridiculous about all of this, though, and it was rather starting to grate on her nerves. There had best be plenty of margaritas in her immediate future. “It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Remember that time on Ceta IV?” She certainly remembered it; she had discovered then that Time Lords had lower body temperatures than humans and a tendency to steal the bloody duvet to make up for the temperature difference. “This bed’s loads bigger – look, we can make a nice little wall of pillows right down the middle if you really want. And you can even have the duvet.” All right, so maybe she sounded a little condescending, but it was only because he was being so damned _immature_ about everything.

“The weather’s warm here – no need for a duvet.” And there was the Doctor, missing the point again. Donna eyed the minibar longingly.

“What is there to do here, anyway?” she asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Well, it’s a tropical resort – same as on Earth, just with more aliens.” He flashed a charming smile at her. “Just what you asked for: sun, sand, and alcohol.” Gesturing to the patio doors with one hand, he began unbuttoning his shirt with the other. “I’m going to go out back and have a swim, I think. Good for the constitution, swimming. I used to have a pool in the TARDIS, you know, but I had to jettison it once when I needed to take off in a hurry. Always missed it, though. Somehow, I never get the chance to go for a swim, no matter where I go.”

Donna tuned him out, her eyes following his fingers as he unbuttoned the shirt, slowly revealing his pale, freckled skin. “You’re going to get burnt,” she interrupted suddenly. “Probably worse than I will.” She rummaged through her tote for a moment, then pulled out a bottle of sunscreen, tossing it to him as she banished thoughts of rubbing him down with the lotion from her mind.

“Nah, Time Lords don’t burn.” He threw the sunscreen back to her, grinning again as he let his shirt fall to the floor.

She shook her head, bending over to pick up the shirt. “I don’t believe half of what you say, you know.”

“Good.” He pushed the door open, looking back at her for a moment – and had his glance darted down to her cleavage for just a moment, or was that her imagination? “You probably shouldn’t.”

Donna sighed, watching him go – and wondering if she ought to take him a sandwich – before crossing the room to the minibar. Though most of the alcohol was unrecognizable, sniffing the bottles revealed one that she was pretty certain was some sort of banana-ish schnapps. She poured herself a healthy measure in a glass, then tossed it back, grimacing at the taste – it burnt on the way down, though, so at least it was alcoholic enough.

After changing into her swimsuit – a tasteful black one-piece number, without any straps – Donna went out back to sunbathe. The Doctor was splashing around in a small waterfall-fed pool, looking completely ecstatic – and as though he ought to be wearing waterwings round his wrists. She rolled her eyes at him and reclined in a chair, picking up the discarded bottle of sunscreen and squirting some into her hands. Maybe Time Lords didn’t get sunburnt, but ginger humans definitely did.

“Oi, alien boy!” she called out as she rubbed the lotion down her legs. “Come over here and do my back for me, will you?”

The Doctor turned and looked at her, getting that deer-in-headlights look again. “Er,” he stammered. “I’m…not sure if that’s entirely appropriate, Donna.”

Oh, God, ostensibly being married was making everything so _complicated_. She wondered if it would’ve been this way with Lance, had he actually had the proper intentions and not, you know, actually trying to feed her to a giant spider. Donna heaved an exasperated sigh and rolled over onto her stomach, trying to rub the lotion on herself. It would be easier to do than arguing about it with the Doctor, that much was certain.

…all right, so maybe she would just stay on her back. She’d spent enough time vacationing in tropical locales – and getting attractive cabana boys to apply her sunscreen – to know that if she _did_ leave her back uncovered, she would be in for a world of pain.

Donna gave up, shifting onto her back again and closing her eyes. She had to hand it to the Doctor; he had picked one hell of a place to go on holiday. The sunlight was warm on her skin, with just the barest hint of a breeze to cool her, the sound of the waterfall was wonderfully soothing, and the Doctor seemed to have calmed down for the moment. Everything was perfect.

Which, of course, meant that it was just the right time for the sound of an explosion to rend the air. Donna swore and jumped up, nearly folding herself into her lounge chair in the process.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, even though the answer was fairly obvious. Black smoke billowed over the trees; it appeared to be coming from deeper in the rainforest. Not quite close enough that the resort would be at risk, but still troubling – it seemed rather like the sort of thing that would put an end to her holiday.

“A bomb,” the Doctor replied, hauling himself out of the water. “Plasma ion, it sounds like. Pretty expensive – and pretty destructive.” He turned toward the trees, then looked at Donna. “You coming?”

“Well, of course I am!” Though Donna had no idea what they could do in their swimsuits – or, for that matter, if it was quite safe to venture into the jungle practically naked. Nevertheless, she followed the Doctor into the thick foliage, wincing as thorns bit into her legs.

The source of the explosion was a blocky, industrial-looking building, wholly out of place with the jungle surrounding it. The entire building was enveloped in flames, and there was a hole in one side, the sheet metal blown out around it.

“Uninhabited, do you think?” Donna asked.

The Doctor frowned. “You don’t blow up uninhabited buildings. His gaze travelled over her shoulder and deeper into the trees. “Or do you?” he asked, raising his voice.

“It is a laboratory,” a familiar voice hissed. Rrrys stepped closer to them, her tail swishing frantically. “We were here to put a stop to it – they have been harvesting genetic samples from the resort’s guests, and the ones in charge were to be here – but then they took Ssthiss, and it was too late to stop the bomb. My mate, Grrn, is still in there – so is Ssthiss.” Her slit-pupiled eyes were wide in what Donna recognized as panic. “I – I wanted to go in, but Grrn said to stay here.”

“What sort of genetic sampling?”

Donna frowned. “Not now, Doctor.” She tugged his arm, starting toward the building.

“Oh! Oh, right.” The Doctor ran a hand through his wet hair as he looked at the building. “Two saurians, Ssthiss and Grrn, right? No problem. We’ll get them.” He took Donna’s hand and started running in long, easy strides.

Donna felt the heat against her bare skin as they drew closer. The air grew thick and smoky, making it hard to breathe, and she could barely make out the outline of a door in the wall. The Doctor kept barreling on at full tilt, apparently unaffected by the smoky air; Donna let go of his hand, bending over to catch her breath, as he kept going, crashing through the door with his shoulder.

“Ow,” the Doctor said weakly from inside the building.

Donna sighed – or tried to sigh, but then her breath caught in her lungs, and she started coughing, her chest and shoulders heaving. “Doctor,” she croaked, “that wasn’t a very good idea.”

He poked his head around the doorframe. “Well, I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I’ve not exactly got my sonic screwdriver handy or anything.” He rubbed his shoulder ruefully. “I didn’t expect it to be quite so _hard_ , though. Are you all right?”

She coughed again. “Yeah, just give me a moment.” Donna straightened up slowly, following the Doctor into the building. The interior was shrouded in smoke and flames, but, from what Donna could see, it looked rather like a laboratory – she’d been in enough alien labs by now to recognise them. Most of the cages lining the walls were empty, thank God.

“Careful,” the Doctor said, holding a hand out to stop her. “Broken glass all over the place in here. It’ll cut your feet right up.”

Donna refrained from pointing out that her feet were _already_ cut up from their run through the jungle, peering through the smoke for Ssthiss instead. “Ssthiss,” she said, as loudly as she could manage. “It’s me, Donna. You remember me? C’mon, love.” There was no sign of the baby dinosaur, or of Rrrys’s mate. 

The Doctor walked carefully through the lab, while Donna stuck close to the wall. “I think I found those kidnappers Rrrys was looking for,” he called out to her. “Dead, of course.” A frown crossed his face. “Along with her mate. The corpses are slashed up, but there’s no way of telling if Grrn killed them, or if the blast did.”

Donna stopped just short of the raging flames. “Where’s Ssthiss? He’s got to be in here somewhere.” She choked up; she wasn’t sure if it was for Ssthiss, Grrn, and Rrrys, because of the smoke, or both.

“I see something moving back in the corner, I-“ The sound of creaking timbers interrupted the Doctor, and the worried look on his face started to change to one of panic. “Donna, listen, you’ve got to get out _now_. The structure’s starting to fail.”

She shrank back from the flames, which were creeping closer and closer to her. “What about you and Ssthiss?” Donna would have felt safer in the middle of the raging inferno with the Doctor; being separated from him made her a little nervous. She was just a human, after all – she was beginning to develop a certain amount of experience when dealing with catastrophes, but the Doctor was an expert in the field.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Just go.”

Donna hesitated for a moment, then turned and ran for the exit, heedless of the glass shards strewn on the floor slicing into the tender skin of her feet.

Rrrys looked up when she collapsed on the grass in front of her. “Donna!” she exclaimed. “Ssthiss and Grrn – are they –“

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, uncertain of how to break the news to her. “The Doctor’s still in there looking for Ssthiss. But Grrn – he – well, he was caught in the blast while he was dealing with the scientists, the Doctor thinks.”

Rrrys ducked her head, her slit-pupiled eyes closing for a long moment. “He died a brave death, then.”

Donna reached out, tentatively stroking the pebbled skin of her snout. “The Doctor’ll bring Ssthiss out, you’ll see,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “It’ll be all right, Rrrys.”

Rrrys’s only answer was to let out a high-pitched keening noise from deep in her throat.

And suddenly, an answering wail came through the smoke. The Doctor staggered into view, Ssthiss cradled in his arms. He set the young saurian down gently before falling to his knees in front of Rrrys, visibly trembling.

Rrrys pulled Ssthiss to her, holding him gently with her foreclaws as she bent her head to nuzzle him. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said quietly. “Thank you for saving my son. I will tell him tales of your bravery when he is old enough to understand, and our herd will remember you for your deeds.”

Suddenly, Donna noticed what looked like blood on Ssthiss’s claws. “Doctor?” she asked, turning to him.

He turned to look at her, his anguish evident on his soot-streaked face. His tears had cut paths through the ash, and there was blood on his lip from where he had nearly bitten through it. “Donna,” he said quietly, and it was only then that she noticed that he was clutching his side with bloody hands.

“Can you make it back, do you think?” She frowned; she didn’t know much about first aid, and she knew even less about Gallifreyan physiology, but it didn’t look good to her.

“I’ll – I’ll be fine,” he gasped, his face visibly paler under the soot. “Don’t worry about me.”

Rrrys trilled something to Ssthiss in their native language, then darted into the forest for a moment. She returned clutching several large leaves and a sizeable lump of moss in one foreclaw, setting them down next to Donna and the Doctor. “These will help stop the bleeding until you can get back and bandage it properly. I know a little of medicine – it’s why I was selected to come investigate the facility here.”

“Tell me about the facility, Rrrys,” the Doctor said. Donna worked to bandage him while Rrrys talked; she didn’t think that the moss could possibly be much use in stopping the flow of blood, particularly given the size of the gashes, but it was the only thing they had.

“They’ve been taking samples from the guests and shipping them offworld,” Rrrys hissed, running a foreclaw down Ssthiss’s back protectively. “Genetic manipulation, I believe. They want to create a race of mercenaries.”

The Doctor stroked his chin. “Oh, that’s bad. People’ve tried that before, and it hasn’t worked well. You can’t just…create a genetic conglomeration like that – it’s like a patchwork being. Something always goes wrong somewhere in the process – and that’s assuming that your lab doesn’t get blown up by ecoterrorists.” He grimaced.

“This was the only facility,” Rrrys pointed out. “We have brought a permanent halt to their experimentation.” She looked sorrowful. “That shall be Grrn’s legacy.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve just got to check things out to make sure of that, right, Donna?”

“Can you hold that down while we walk?” Donna asked, glancing up at the Doctor. “Applying pressure ought to slow the bleeding.” She was more worried about the present situation than any future difficulties, to be frank.

He chuckled, though it sounded strained, and gently replaced Donna’s hands with his own. “I’m a doctor, Donna. I _do_ know these things.” He stood up gingerly, letting out a soft cry of pain, then turned to Rrrys, inclining his head solemnly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Rrrys. May your herd remain strong.”

Donna stood, brushing the grass and dirt from her legs. She suddenly felt awkward; she wanted to hug Rrrys, but she wasn’t sure that embracing a dinosaur with extremely sharp claws was a good idea. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, ignoring the stabbing pain in her feet. “I’m sorry, too, Rrrys,” she added quietly. “I hope that you and Ssthiss are all right.”

“Bye,” Ssthiss chirped, sounding sad. “Thanks.” He pressed back against his mother, wearing the same mournful expression as her.

Donna looked at Ssthiss and Rrrys one last time, then wrapped an arm around the Doctor’s waist for support, though she wasn’t sure which of them was supporting the other. They turned their back on the flames, which were quickly devouring the husk of the building, and limped off through the jungle together.

***

“You want to get me drunk?” Donna asked incredulously. She was sitting on the counter; the Doctor had pulled a chair up to examine her feet. He was ignoring his own wounds to tend to hers, holding a wadded-up bedsheet against his side.

“We don’t have any anaesthetic,” he said wearily, running a hand through his hair. “This’ll at least numb the pain a bit – and you need it, you’ve got glass shards _everywhere_ in your feet.”

She accepted the glass, eyeing it warily, then sipped at it. It was something with a nutty scent to it, not completely unpleasant, but hardly the margaritas she’d been hoping for. Donna blinked as the alcohol hit her empty stomach and went straight to her head. “Oh. That _is_ strong.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor took a pair of tweezers and began pulling the glass out bit by bit, dropping the shards into an empty bowl. They clinked as they hit the bottom, and Donna couldn’t help but feel a little faint at seeing the red-tinged glass. “I thought I told you to be careful,” he remarked.

“Yeah, and then you told me to run. Hard to be careful when you’re running for your life.” She snorted, taking another drink. Though the Doctor was trying to be gentle, she could still feel the stabbing pain in her feet. “What about you? You sure you’re all right to do this?”

“The wounds were mainly superficial.” Somehow, Donna couldn’t help but think this was another one of his lies. “They just bled a lot, that’s all. No real trouble.” Except, of course, that Donna could see that the wounds were still bleeding sluggishly, turning the off-white sheet deep red.

He wrapped the torn-up bedsheet around her feet gently – neither of them had been able to make it back to the TARDIS for real medical supplies, and Donna had a sneaking suspicion she would have to buy new eyebrow tweezers after this – then ran a hand up her calf, resting it on her knee as he looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Donna. I really did mean for this to be a proper holiday.”

She sighed, pulling away from him as she slid off the counter. She had to bite back a cry as she stood up. “It’s never a proper holiday with you, Doctor. Something always goes pear-shaped, and we’re the only ones around to deal with it.” Donna poured another glass of the liquor, handing it to the Doctor. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

He accepted the glass mutely, quickly draining its contents and holding it out for a refill. Donna had turned to the sink to fill a bowl with warm water, but she set the bowl down for a moment, tipping the bottle to fill his glass again. “Gallifreyan metabolism again?” she asked, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a slight smile.

“Precisely.” The Doctor took the bottle in his free hand and slowly made his way to the bed, setting the bottle down on the bedside table. Donna joined him with the rest of the bandages, her bowl of water, and a washcloth.

“Careful,” she murmured as she dabbed at the wounds. “This is going to sting.”

The Doctor let out a long, hissing breath as she gently washed the blood and moss out of his cuts. “Yeah, it does, just a bit.” His skin was surprisingly cool to the touch; Donna tried to remember if she’d ever actually had contact with his bare skin before.

“Donna,” he said quietly. “It’s not all bad, you know. Not everything in the universe is death and destruction and – oh, Rassilon, could you be a _little_ more careful?”

“Sorry.” She thought she had been careful, but things were starting to acquire a distinct blurry feeling, thanks to the healthy portion of alcohol she’d had earlier. She rubbed her temples for a moment, trying to concentrate. “I know. It just seems like it sometimes, that’s all. I mean, really, that’s what we encounter the most. Not the good and the beautiful, but the worst there is to see.” She pressed a pad of bandages against his skin, then began wrapping the longer strips around his torso. “And setting things right – well, Doctor, that’s fantastic, but why can’t things be right to begin with?”

He reached down and tilted her chin up with a pair of fingers, looking into her eyes. “Sometimes they are, I promise. I thought they were here, actually, but…well, no use in dwelling on that.”

Donna tied a knot in the bandages with uncertain fingers, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were to each other, and how the Doctor, for once in his life, _wasn’t_ flinching away from physical contact. “I just…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat, trying to ignore the images of destruction that threatened to overwhelm her mind. “I want to forget about all that sometimes. I want to know that there are good things out there.” She laid down next to him, stroking his shoulder with her fingertips and staring up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears in her eyes.

The Doctor rolled over onto his good side, examining her for a moment with those solemn brown eyes, then leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. “I promise you, Donna Noble,” he murmured as he pulled back ever so slightly, their lips still touching, “there _is_ good in the universe.”

Donna, for once in her life, was too shocked to respond. A dozen things flashed through her head, and none of them were flippant replies. She did the only thing that seemed appropriate and kissed him back, pulling him closer. It seemed to her that he needed to be reassured just as much as she did.

He pulled away finally, looking a little surprised. “Oh,” he said, blinking owlishly, and if she had been a little more sober, Donna would have rejoiced over the fact that things _finally_ seemed to be clicking in the Doctor’s head. “Well, then.” He kissed her again, rather more heatedly this time, but still gentle.

She ran her hands along his chest and stomach as she returned the kiss, careful to avoid his wounds. Her fingertips followed the curves of his bones, tracing his ribs and sliding down the sternum, then gliding over the curve of his hip, stopping at the waistband of his shorts. The shorts had been more or less ruined, like her swimsuit; they were ripped, scorched, and covered in dried blood, which, as far as Donna was concerned, was more than enough of a reason to remove them. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband, tugging them down insistently.

The Doctor laughed suddenly, pulling back for a moment. “You’re awfully forward, Donna.” There was a delighted twinkle in his eye as he lifted his hips up to let her pull the trunks off.

“Yeah, well, they aren’t exactly hiding much,” Donna said defensively, tossing the shorts aside. “Maybe you ought to think about what you’re wearing the next time you run into a burning building.”

He smirked at her. “And you don’t think the same could be said about you?” The Doctor cast a very pointed look at her cleavage, causing Donna to blush fiercely. “Really, if I’m naked, it’s only fair.”

Donna peeled the ragged remnants of her bathing suit off slowly, suddenly feeling much more awkward about the whole situation. She reached over the Doctor and sipped from his glass, hoping the burn of the liquor would soothe her nerves, then settled back down next to him, resisting the urge to fold her arms over her chest. 

The Doctor stared openly at her, looking for all the world like a teenage boy confronted with his first real live naked woman. “Oh, Donna,” he murmured softly, his voice full of awe as he traced circles on her stomach with his fingertips. She shivered at the touch, her breath hitching in her throat. God, it really _had_ been a long time since she’d been with a man – well, after Lance, she’d spent ages looking for the Doctor, which hadn’t really helped her social life, and then she’d gone travelling.

But now the two of them were in bed together; she’d never expected it to happen, but, oh, it was _wonderful_ , the way he touched her with feather-light caresses, and the look in his eyes, like she was the only person in the universe…Donna wasn’t much given to romance, but she knew good sex when she saw it – or, rather, felt it.

Her touches were just as timid as his, skirting around the edge of the bandages, then dipping down into the hollow of his hip, stopping just below the base of his cock (which, thank God, looked just like every human penis she’d ever seen – though longer than most, and curving slightly to the left). He gasped sharply, rolling his hips up into her caress, begging wordlessly for more contact.

Donna obliged, wrapping her hand firmly around his length as she pressed up against him, careful not to aggravate his wounds. As she stroked him slowly, he dipped his head down, kissing and licking her neck, running the tip of his tongue along her collarbone, then mouthing her breasts. She gasped as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before nipping it gently. His hands continued their exploration of the rest of her body, trailing from her stomach to the top of her thigh and gently parting her legs.

She moaned as he pressed a pair of fingers into her, working them in and out as he rubbed her with his thumb. He looked up at her, his eyes full of wonder and surprise and arousal; she could only imagine that the same emotions were mirrored in her own gaze. He panted hotly against her skin, releasing her nipple to murmur, “How are we going to do this, then?”

Donna frowned; she had been caught up in a world of slow, languorous touches with lips and tongues and fingers and hadn’t quite managed to think that far ahead. “I’ll be on top,” she decided, figuring that seemed like the position least likely to aggravate his wounds.

He grinned, looking decidedly dazed. “Oh, I do so like it when a woman takes charge.”

“You’re with the right woman, then.” Donna snorted as she released his cock to push him flat on his back, shifting to straddle his hips. He looked especially fragile from here, she thought, as if she might break him if she was too rough. Well, rough could come another time – and she wondered briefly why she was even thinking of another time, as if there might be a repeat occurrence, but quickly banished those thoughts to focus on the present.

The Doctor pulled his fingers out, giving her a heated look as he brought them to his mouth to lick them, and _that_ nearly undid her right then and there. She swallowed hard as she grasped him firmly, lifting herself up just a bit before sliding back down onto his cock, and, oh, _that_ was fantastic, so much more than she’d thought it would be.

He moaned eagerly, arching up into her, then wincing. “Oh. Right. Perhaps…you ought to do most of the work.”

Donna laughed throatily as she rolled her hips, eliciting another moan from the Doctor. “Don’t worry, I will.” She moved up and down experimentally, watching for his reaction, then set a slow, steady pace as she reached down to rub her clit.

He groaned in frustration. “Well, I’m not going to last very long at all if you do _that_ ,” he pointed out, though he didn’t seem to be complaining – not with that rapturous look on his face, anyway. He fisted his hands in the blankets as he watched her with wide, lust-filled eyes, his breath coming hard and fast.

She kept moving, speeding up slightly, but not enough to cause him pain. Donna leaned back, adjusting the angle bit by bit, concentrating till it hit just _there_ , and she gasped as her orgasm wracked her body, crashing over her in waves. She was just barely aware of the Doctor coming with a shout as he thrust up into her, and she clung to him till both their orgasms subsided.

Donna pulled off of him, rolling to one side – the uninjured one – and caressing his shoulder again. “Well,” she said breathlessly, effectively silenced again.

“Indeed,” the Doctor murmured, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“What’re you planning on blaming this on, then?” Donna wasn’t speechless for long.

The Doctor thought for a moment. “Oh, any number of things, I imagine. Altered metabolism due to blood loss, the fact that the TARDIS has apparently been meddling in my affairs and conspiring to get me to have sex, the phase of the moon on Nerian VIII…”

“Wanting to show me the beautiful things in the universe.”

He turned his head to smile at her. “There is that, yeah.”

She frowned, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “Wait, what was that about the TARDIS?”

“Ah, well, she’s been manipulating our coordinates – and my psychic fields, for that matter. Not enough to draw my attention to it immediately, but she had to know that I’d notice eventually.” He pulled a face, running his fingers through its hair and rearranging its gravity-defying messiness. “It’s her fault we’re married, actually, and she’s been giving me all sorts of psychic nudges ever since we got here. She manipulated the psychic paper to get us a suite instead of two different rooms.”

Donna pulled away briefly. “Does that mean that you only slept with me because the TARDIS wanted you to?” She hadn’t thought finding out something like that would hurt so much – or at all.

The Doctor shook his head reluctantly. “She only manipulated the possibilities. The decision was mine.”

Donna went silent again as she thought about things, still rubbing his arm. “I suppose, then, that it hasn’t been such a completely rubbish honeymoon after all.”

The Doctor grimaced. “You _would_ have to remind me of that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, technically, we _did_ just consummate the marriage.” Donna grinned cheekily at him. “And you didn’t get to burn that marriage certificate, either.”

The Doctor contemplated this. “There are, I suppose, worse people to be tied to by a legally binding ceremony. You make a good partner, Donna.”

“Good partner, yeah, but a horrible wife.” Donna smirked. “And don’t try to tell me that you’d be a good husband.”

“I’d be a wonderful husband!” The Doctor looked insulted, pulling away from her touch. “And it doesn’t matter, because I’m still going to burn the marriage certificate.”

Her smile widened. “You’re all talk and no action, alien boy. Anyway, we work better as partners – you said so yourself.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I mean, titles aren’t important. So we’re legally married – so what? Doesn’t mean we have to be anything more than partners.”

He grinned at her. “You’re right, Donna Noble. As usual. But I’m still going to find some little planet _somewhere_ where we can file divorce papers – right after we finish dealing with these genetic manipulators.”

Donna knew, of course, that something would inevitably come up after they were done with that, and then something else, and she really doubted that the Doctor would ever get around to looking into a divorce. And, really, the sex had been _fabulous_ , and she rather wanted more of it (was that wrong?). Besides, hadn’t he said again and again that he needed her? Maybe theirs was a bit of an unconventional marriage – but her entire life was unconventional, particularly where the Doctor was concerned.


End file.
